… hope is oxygen

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A passing quote…

Every time I sit down to write, I think, “Well, it’s over. Clearly, some astral confluence of outside forces made it possible, until yesterday, for it to appear that I could write, but things have changed now. From now on, instead of someone who lives like a pig because I’m writing, I’ll just be someone who lives like a pig.”

is anybody out there ~

my author blog: Lesley-Anne Evans

RED COUCH is a pop-up visual arts gallery celebrating the art of Metro Community artists and friends. Red Couch doesn’t take a commission, instead they support, honour and share Metro Community artists works in hopes they will find a way into the lives and hearts of others. Lesley-Anne led the ideation and creation of Red […]

Kelowna’s Gospel Mission courtyard officially opened for use on September 14, 2016. It was a glorious day for a grand opening, celebrating creative community and this safe gathering space which will graciously welcome our city’s most vulnerable for years to come. A special congratulations to poets Norm and Nobu, whose meaningful and honest words now grace the walls in brightly coloured steel […]

For the past several months Lesley-Anne Evans has been curating the social media campaign Holding Out Hope. Beginning with a commemorative poetry wall (see CBC article here) immediately prior to the demolition of Metro’s drop-in centre, Metro Community members are invited to share words that humanize and build understanding. Lesley-Anne and others listen, record and share. Holding Out Hope invites Kelowna’s […]

my poetry initiatives: pop-up-poetry

Inside, your voice speaks: You know you can do it. You know you have something to say. You’ve dedicated years of time, talent, and treasure to this, and seen the ripple effects as others receive the gifts. Yes, there is that fine line that you walk between true humility and feeling…joyful and proud to share your poetry…that it is even yours to give. You know […]

Modernism Week in Palm Springs, and I just had to indulge in a little poetry pop-up poolside before we headed home to snow, not spring, and not palm trees. The poems, freed from the confines of my carry on bag, fluttered in the warm desert breeze. I wonder who will find them this time? Maybe the hip chick from […]